


No Names

by lacygrey



Series: Lacy's Loki ficlets [5]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gender-Neutral Character, Lookalikes, M/M, Midgard setting, One Night Stands, Other, PWP, Reader-Insert, county fair, showering together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-28 21:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18213554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacygrey/pseuds/lacygrey
Summary: Many years ago Loki broke up with you and never told you why. Now you live in another realm, far from Asgard. One night at a fair, you meet someone who reminds you uncannily of him.





	1. Neon burning up above

 

“No names.”

The stranger pauses a second, then his smile widens, like the two of you just shared some private joke. And so you know you he’s fine with that, more than fine.

You weren’t trying to add mystique, though he’s welcome to think that. No, the fact is you’d all but named him in your head already, in barely moments after seeing his face. in the time it took him to emerge from the colorful dusk of the fairground and approach you, you’d named him from a memory.

Now, if you knew he had some dull Midgardian name, it would shatter the illusion. Like this, for one night only, he can be Loki. Your Loki.

Yes, it’s better all round with no names.

“Except ones we make up.” He says cheekily. “I can already think if quite a few…” his voice trails off and deepens and he’s looking at your lips. And your eyes fall to the contour of his throat, where that honeyed sound had just come from.

That voice… it could almost be…

He’s got you wanting him to say more, but you can't think of anything to ask that wouldn’t ruin the illusion.

He reaches towards you, but doesn't touch, and, understanding him, you do the same until you are. You slip from your stool and he catches you and leads you by the arm. It’s so easy to fall in step. He keeps snatching furtive little glances at you as though shy and fascinated, while everything else about him shrieks of confidence and experience. The contrast puts you on edge in the most delightful way.

 

***

 

The county fair is a moment out of time. In small towns such as this one, apart from nights like tonight, it’s always the same old faces. That’s why you don’t stay in any one place too long. You move on before you yourself become an old face. For that’s the problem, your face doesn’t get old, at least not as fast as the ones of the Midgardians around you. And that would be suspicious. You’re supposed to be a sleeping agent, watching and listening to this world.

In its way, your job is guarding a tiny part of the nine realms. You are the eyes and ears of Odin, for even the gatekeeper cannot look everywhere at once.

 _An important mission for a skilled agent_ they said, a _vital link in the network_ they said, _a key role for Asgard’s intelligence_ they said…

You’d wanted out and that’s what you got.

Now you know it for what it is. Here, with a thousand miles of rice and cotton fields until the sea, you are truly far from anything that could remind you of home.

Until tonight.

And tonight can be a moment out of time.

 

***

 

You’d spotted him in the arcade earlier as he leaned over a pinball machine, focused on his goal with frantic, but somehow measured movements, so absorbed that you could observe, unnoticed, his denim clad ass and long legs as you passed by. He wore a cap jammed down on his head so that his hair, black and fetchingly long, stuck out from under it, and got tossed about as he played.

It was only later that you saw his face.

You recognized his silhouette as he approached the bar, alone, far from inconspicuous with his height, but not troubling anyone, not making a move. No, more like he was waiting for one. Then a rosy bulb hanging near the cotton candy stand lit up his face. There was no time to hide your own, nor your shock, before he’d turned his head and caught sight of you.

It was Loki!

But …No! it couldn’t be. Not here in the middle of a fairground on Midgard.

There was no flash of recognition on his part, only one of appreciation, while you could do nothing but stare and try to hold back your rush of panic and euphoria.

You told yourself it was just a trick of the light, told yourself that if Loki really came to Earth he’d swap his skin before emerging in such a place. He’d have found the perfect disguise. The stranger wasn’t him, couldn’t be. For _Loki_ to come to _Midgard_ undisguised would be madness. But your heart still pounded and couldn’t seem to take your eyes off him. The stranger clearly took this as an invitation and smiled at you, changing his course to join you at the bar, like one who’s found what he was searching for without first knowing what he sought. He must have thought you were giving him the come on.

Perhaps you had been.

So, looking every inch the someone you came here to forget, he bought you a drink while you tried to casually ask how he came to be passing though these parts. He replied blandly that that he liked to travel and meet people, but when he met your eyes fully, he left you with no ambiguity about what he meant by ‘meeting people’. And all the while from behind you came the cries of excitement of people on the rides, enjoying themselves and leaving the two of you in your own bubble.

Your memories of Loki of Asgard had faded into a painlessness with the years, what’d it been?, a century at least, but they hadn’t lost their potency, just slipped underground.

 

_That time in Loki’s chambers so many years ago when Loki kissed you, he started so bold but then pulled away shocked and flustered like it was you who had taken a liberty. You enticed him to resume and didn’t let him pull away a second time, not even to get his tunic off. As you tried to touch him through it, to thumb his collarbones, his sides, then his nipples, he genuinely seemed to relax and accept you. But then Thor barged in on you, clueless he was barging in on anything, and Loki was off the bed and over to the other side of the room in a flash. He stood looking casually out the window, aiming for unruffled . You watched him, knowingly, as tried to get his breathing under control and the blush on his neck subsided._

_Then he’d gone and let Thor drag him off on some ridiculous pretext like sparing, which normally wasn’t Loki’s thing at all._

 

The heavy heat of the day has subsided and it’s comfortable to walk close, sensing where you touch, accidentally and then purposefully, as you leave the fairground behind you and come back toward the town. You don’t take him home, but let him lead you to his hotel. It’s the best in town.

Given his attire, that’s a surprise. You would have expected a motel perhaps, or even that he take you to some secluded spot in his truck. But not this, this is classy. There is _something_ about him, you see now, something besides his resemblance to Loki. He looks like a local, even moves like one, but he’s clearly not spent a day in his life under the delta sun. His skin is the palest white and almost glows in the growing night.

You say little, admittedly because you have your own fantasy playing to this, but he doesn’t say much either, except with his eyes and an occasional smirk.

In his room you notice a suit-carrier hanging up and a laptop on the coffee table. Different again from what you expected.

“Where…”. It slips out but you stop before you can help it, but you hold back the “ _do you come from?”_ that you want to say. It’s already a step too far. But before you can backtrack he answers.

“Outer space.” and he waves his hand from his chest to the sky outside the French windows. Such a ridiculous a way of avoiding the question and your embarrassment that you both laugh. He could be anyone and that suits you perfectly.

From outside, the pool lights catch his face so he’s outlined in blue. You dim the lighting inside and this might as well not even be Earth, were it not for the cicadas.

Yes, you suppose you are using him. There’s no guilt though. Playing out an old fantasy with this stranger as the star, just because he could so easily be someone else. But you’ll make it worth his while.

For a moment you look out at the pool and garden. There’s no one. The water shimmers its unearthly blue and the sprinklers have started for the night to keep the garden lush by day. An oasis.

There’s an unmistakable sound of a zipper from behind you and when you turn, your host is already virtually naked. You’re a little put out as you would have liked to help him undress. You admire him, though he’s little but a shadowy blue outline. Before you can turn the lights up again to get a better look, he makes for the bathroom, only turning at the last minute to beckon before he lets the door close fall closed between you.

You haven’t so much as kissed and he wants you to shower together, not shy this boy!

He’s already under the spray when you enter. The shower - elegantly tiled in black and gold, with jets in all directions - seems to occupy half the room. Behind the glass, he moves and you watch his pale shape against the dark wall. He lets the water run down his body and when he turns his back, you see his hair slicked straight, bottomlessly black. It almost reaches his waist as he flexes himself, sliding his hands down his body.

He knows he’s beautiful and wants to show you.

Not once did you ever see the real Loki unclothed in all the time you were together, though the idea gave your imagination a great deal of exercise. But this, this is something else. The steam surrounds you as you step in with him and water falls in your eyes. His hands find you and, rather than draw you close, they explore you. He takes some soap and starts to lather you until you’re slippery beneath his touch and surrounded in the scent of monoi. You don’t need to look. You can feel how aroused he is each time he brushes idly against you, never trying for more. He’s hanging back, teasing you. But your moves become gradually less inhibited, your own touches more lingering on his warm wet skin. You don’t hurry him, you know where this is going.

The cool of the air hits you as you emerge into the bedroom; him leading you by the hand and leading you on with that smile. So much like that other smile that once seemed to promise everything, but in the end held nothing but secrets that were not for you to know.

Then Mr No Name, pale, lithe, with his lust darkened eyes and unashamed intent, lays himself out on the bed for you.

You crawl your way up him and when finally you kiss it’s like coming home. You don’t need to close your eyes and image, you have only to look and keep on looking.

This is going to set you back years.

Only once you’re both breathless do you break off. He nudges you onto your stomach and runs his hands down your back.

“Now let me see.” he’s poking around in a little bag just out of your field of vision.

You smell it before it touches you, another perfumed concoction.

“You like that?”

You hum a yes. It’s thick, scented and deliciously cool and he’s touching you everywhere with it, hands slick and fast. You rub yourself up into him, experimentally, and his breathing changes, a warm purr comes from his throat, just inches from your face. You turn your head to kiss there, coaxing the sound, pushing yourself against him once more, harder. He shudders. You’re going to forget yourself, forget him, or rather who he isn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the smut is in chapter 2 :)


	2. We can call it paradise

_That time in the library… Loki, resplendent in the sunlight falling through a window, draped over a choir and smirking at you over the pages of a dusty tome. You taking the book from his hands, running your fingers over his own as you did it and him letting you, his eyes not leaving yours for a second. Him darting his tongue out an instant to wet his lips. Then, book forgotten, kissing you so willingly…_

_You made out for what seemed like hours that day, almost to the point of indecency, which was narrowly avoided only because, disheveled and panting, you finally remembered where you were._

_No one expected the princes to be virgins, you certainly didn’t think that Loki was. He had that suaveness, that assurance which spoke of past conquests. But you just couldn’t get past it. Was it all a front? Did he actually not like sex? You could respect that if it were the case, but you couldn’t believe it, not with his behavior, his reactions to your kisses, his own ardor and his salacious come hither glances…all of which led absolutely nowhere._

 

 

You coax the stranger up to the headboard where you sit astride him, smooth back his damp hair and take his cock firmly in one hand as you kiss him, aiming to gauge how you’re doing from how he responds with his mouth. 

You’ve barely begun but he’s so quickly affected he can hardly kiss back. He opens his mouth in a cry and you lean in to swallow it, pushing closer with your mouth, then with the rest of your body. He curses and slams his forehead into your shoulder. He’s oh so sensitive to even the the tiniest touch. And the more you see it, the more you think it's catching.

You’ve imagined Loki in many ways but never like this. In the depths of your fantasies Loki would bind you with magic. It was always he the more demanding one and you the plaything. This is something else entirely. This man does nothing but give himself up to you. The surprise is a whiplash to your libido.

 

 

_That very last time in the gardens with Loki you were sure, finally, that he was yours that it was going to happen between you. You had been exchanging heated glances all evening, so when he left the banqueting hall, you followed him outside._

_You searched for ages, half afraid he would ambush you and wrestle you to the ground, half hoping he would. You crept quietly down the trellised alleys and under the arches heavy with roses. And that’s how_ you _surprised_ him _._

_He welcomed you to him and you kissed passionately, now would come the resolution you were sure. The prize. It was just the two of you and most of the night still lay ahead. You took him to the most secluded part of the arboretum, where the trees had left a soft bed of fir fronds, then went deep among the trees where the final light of the day filtered softly. There you picked up when you had left off, sitting on a low branch with just enough give to amplify your movements. You knew your intentions were clear and that in here you were quite safe from prying eyes._

_But once again, right at the brink, he pulled away and not in a playful manner, but like one who runs from something he fears. It was too dark to see his face or try to understand, though. What made him do that? You never knew. But that night, with all its possibilities that never were very to be, haunted you for a very long time. Asgard had so many secret love-tainted places - the library, the palace, and now the garden._

_Shortly after that, Loki broke it off with you, never saying why, however much you begged him._

 

 

The man on the bed lets you lead. You caress him with the tip of your tongue and his eyes fly open, full of pleading. How easy it is to uncover the creature he is underneath. Fascinated, you persist with your licking and bathe in his responses. Who would have guessed that once he was unwrapped, this is what you would find. 

You give him an experimental nip just under the ribs and he shivers and rumples his brow. So you kiss him gently there instead and he makes a strained whimper and frowns harder. 

Is it you or his own want that troubles him so? 

“You like that!?” you ask. It’s perhaps a stupid question, but you want to be sure because his reaction verges on one of pain. He gives a quiet ‘yeah’ and when you put your hand to his hardness again, he lies back fully on the bed, stares at you with profound relief and nods. This is what he wants, and though he makes anguished noises as you stroke him, he does nothing to stop you. 

So, you ask no more, you move your hand, upping the pressure a fraction, setting a steady pace as he flexes and sighs, then strains and moans, gradually getting louder. You only let up when you hear a sob.

Only one bent on causing pain would continue, given his distraught expression so you halt.

“Go on” he urges

The look of him is captivating. You only have to see his face, with his eyes, wet and dark and fixed on yours, that he’s taking you with him. His desire pulses under your hands while yours thrums in your ears and heat runs all over you. He seems so desperate in this state. You want to look after him, but to make it good for him you understand you have to make this _worse_. 

You want to ask all about it, how it works for him, what this does to him, but you know that you can’t, not now. All you know is that you’re giving him extreme, exquisite pleasure. It’s a shock that you can do this. You’re amazed at yourself and at him. Gone is the lightness of flirtation. Blown away too is the distraction of memory. This is something new. 

He raises a shaky hand and starts exploring you. You let up on him a minute and let him tease you, going with it, following the feeling as he calms and gets a little control once more. He runs his fingers over you, inside and out, then shifts and you guess he’s slipped on a condom. Time for serious business. He pulls you down on him until he’s almost inside, your eyes meet and time freezes. 

“Yes?”

You nod and push down a fraction, tendrils of heat running up through you as you ease onto him. He feels huge, far larger than in your hand. Then al at once he’s looking at you confused, lost for a moment with the sensation, so you press your advantage and watch his composure disintegrate as you sink down. It pushes the breath out of you. He’s so hard, so thoroughly aroused. You feel sweat break out on your face and your legs shaking. If you feel a little pain, it's nothing to his expression. He’s totally distraught, tears running down the sides of his face and into the sheets, his breath heavy.

However slowly you go, it’s as though he’s on a knife edge, desperate, you run your hand slowly up his chest to calm him but he’s so wound up it just excites him further. 

“Am I hurting you?” you ask. That should be his line. 

He utters single words, when he can get them out 

“More…….Please.” 

You gorge yourself on his attention and encouragement, losing yourself in the heat of your union, the burning friction and the growing storm within you. He fills you, completes you and you take and take, moving yourself on him at just the right speed and angle to get the best stimulation, drinking in his sounds that only echo your own. He is everything and more. Orgasm hits you like a wall, stunning you for a second and leaving you sagged over him, dizzily burning in every inch of your skin while waves of warmth crash over you.

For a long while you don’t have the breath to make words or the sense to think of any. 

Finally you focus.

“That was incredible.” 

He doesn’t respond, his eyes are closed and he’s breathing shallowly. Did you go too far?

“Hey.”

His breath hitches. You forgot yourself. Midgardian bodies weren’t made for this treatment and you’ve been far too demanding. 

“Are you alright, love?”

The euphoria is fading and fingers of guilt start to claw at you. Did you hurt him? You wonder if, carried away with he fantasy, you’d gone too strong with him.

You move off of him and pull off the condom, but he grabs out and holds you by the wrist and guides you back. So you take him, still rapturously hard, in both hands.

“Can I do this?” you ask. “Can I help you finish?”

His eyelids flutter and he strains up into your grasp like he was starved, arching his back and biting his lip before throwing himself back on the sheets with a cry. There was nothing wrong, it’s all just part of how he is. You’re relieved and fascinated. 

You move you hand gently on his shaft and he lets out another appreciative cry. He’s a sight to see, and it’s all your work. He opens his eyes a fraction. So beautiful.

Never have you seen a man come apart like this for you. It’s beyond carnal - it’s almost worship. Although there’s no cruelty in the way you push him relentlessly toward his release, it forces tears from him as though it were a source of pain. From the way he looks at you so earnestly through it all you feel like you’ve won a prize, that he would show you, a total stranger, all this. He sure has a lot of stamina for a Midgardian. 

“Okay?” 

He doesn’t answer, just gasps, and then you feel him coming then and there, catching you by surprise. He strains and stretches with it, and it just goes on and on, so you work him through it, pushing his hips down and speeding up with the other hand. 

He’s saying something finally but it’s incoherent, words you’ve never heard. But it’s all about want and that you understand.

Until there’s only one word. A sound repeated that you don’t understand to start with, until though the haze you recognize it.

Your own name! 

The shock is so absolute you don’t know what to do.

His eyes have slid closed again but he’s mouthing your name like a mantra.

It doesn’t belong here. How could he know? 

Only one way your dazed mind tells you. You feel stricken but keep going, automatically.

He’s so wracked with pleasure he doesn’t pay attention to you. He’s too far inside himself now, it’s like he doesn’t notice anything, not even what he’s saying.

Finally he calms, but he’s still incommunicado and shows no signs of coming to himself. Well then…

Loki.

Shakily, you get up. Despite the shock, all your mind keeps telling you is how beautiful he is, lying there naked and spent in this foreign place. 

You slip out to the bathroom, still warm and steamy, and return with warm damp towels. You clean the both of you, methodically, trying to steer your whirling thoughts. You don’t trust yourself to say anything. It doesn’t seem like he’d hear you anyway. His chest rises and falls but he doesn’t react to your touch. 

Did he even realize what he said?

You’re mad, overjoyed, frightened of what this could mean…but him, he’s perfect. Too perfect to break the spell. 

Now you know, you see him again for the first time. Not looking for similarities as at the start of the night, but for differences. How has he changed in a hundred years? How hasn’t he? 

You say his name in your mind and move in close, matching his shape in the bed. You long for him to wrap an arm around you and draw you closer, but he’s already asleep.


	3. Like emptiness in harmony

You hadn’t planned to stay, but here you are. It’s warm here, but not too much, the sun has yet to reach the windows nor start to beat too strongly. There’s a smell of pancakes and coffee, this is a real hotel after all, and there’s the sleeping form beside you, tucked around you, and all those unanswered questions.

You had imagined you would slip away in the morning – leave the stranger sleeping and go on your way – but now that’s out of the question. And in any case, it’s way too comfortable here.

Loki is sleeping deeply, and your bodies fit together perfectly without hampering each other. The real Loki. You won’t wake him, this moment is all too fleeting and precious – this light, this natural bodily warmth before the heat of the day.

But your mind wakes gradually and with it the questions. Did he think you were a stranger too? Or did he come looking for you? Did he know who you are all along or was it just a slip of tongue? If it was, it was a telling one, but will he even remember what he said? Can you hope to hold onto him now? And would you want to now you’ve lived so long like this, an outpost your entire world? The questions come clamouring but you valiantly bar them from your haven, breathe him in deeply and snuggle closer.

Then he rolls sleepily over and hugs you to him saying your name again and the questions flee, banished by his realness.

Softly almost flirtatiously as the light grows you risk you venture out on the ice.

“You knew where to find me?”

His eyes, half closed, reflecting on a spot on the ceiling, fly open.

“No.” He counters, but offers no more explanation. You always thought you could detect his lies. Before.

You wait, examining him in the cool dawn light. He’s gotten older without ageing a day. You believe him. Does that make you a fool?

“No.” He repeats looking neither ruffled nor too sure. “But… I nearly asked Heimdall where you’d gone.”

And it just hangs there. So he did regret letting you down, but not enough to turn it around.

He doesn’t say any more. But swallows. Pride? Here he is bared to you, you couldn’t be more intimate. Yet he can’t share this, can’t spill.

“I couldn’t let you see that. I needed time.” Perhaps that’s what you needed as much as he. To grow up? To become more patient. “But it didn’t go away.”

“When it’s with a stranger there’s no shame.” he says “But they give you sympathy when it's not what you need. I would always go hunting for someone, only to fall apart. Each time. I suppose it’s the way I am. I hate it.” He sees your incomprehension. “Well I don’t hate _that_ …” Of course he didn’t hate it. It was the weakness he hated, the loss of control, the reaction of others. But just thinking of it both stirs you and makes you feel guilty all at once. You’d loved it, all of it. He’d loved it too and but hated himself for it. That last bit wasn’t right. But you could work on that.

“It’s fucking beautiful.” you say.

He looks uneasy, his eyes flicking away from you.

“It’s like I got to see something no one else does. Once I’d got over being afraid I’d hurt you, it’s like I saw a secret.” you say and feel yourself blushing.

“I didn’t want you to see.” However touched you were by it, he was embarrassed by his weakness. “But, I was always half looking for you. People who looked like you. In quiet places, in the four corners of the realms.”

You get a brief vision of him bedding your lookalikes throughout the universe, and you know it’s egotistical. It’s mind boggling to think of Loki as promiscuous.

“And now?”

It’s a ridiculous idea, given the years passed, that you could just pick up where you left off.

You want to, but how much is nostalgia? Of the stolen kisses in the maze in Frigga’s garden Of chasing through the castle? Of always longing, anticipating the moments you lived last night?

What is Asgard now?

“Come home.” he says.

It’s crazy and perfect and perhaps disaster-bound, but so what. It won’t be boring. You’ve both suffered enough trying to deny it.

You laugh and give your answer in the way you hug him and then you push your nose though his hair and whisper his name to him, like a secret.

 

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this story, why not check out my longfic [Your Latest Trick](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10599156/chapters/23432712)
> 
>  **No Names** chapter title lyrics  
> 1\. _Neon burning up above_ from [Tunnel of Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EYX6qQ31IpA) \- Dire Straights  
> 2\. _We can call it paradise_ from [Save a prayer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n_6Kr5e2dYc) \- Duran Duran  
> 3\. _Like emptiness in harmony_ from [Homeward bound](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GdfBKAt1j2A) \- Simon and Garfunkel  
> (Links good as of 24/3/2019)


End file.
